


A Friend Like Me

by Witchy1ness



Category: Aladdin (1992), Aladdin (2019), Once Upon a Time (TV), Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: Because I can, F/M, Gen, Jafar isn't actually an evil villain, attempt at adding Realism to Disney, he's just at his wit's end, tossing every Jafar I know into a blender and making a whole new character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchy1ness/pseuds/Witchy1ness
Summary: A more realistic take on Aladdin, because History. And I couldn't help myself.What if Jafar wasn't actually a villain, just an exasperated Royal Vizier who's only trying to do his dang job?Which is rather difficult to do when he has to work with a stubborn Princess, a soft-hearted Sultan, and a wise-cracking parrot.
Relationships: Aladdin & Jafar (Disney), Aladdin/Jasmine (Disney)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 99





	A Friend Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written after watching Aladdin (2019), but I've pulled references, scenes and dialogue straight from Aladdin (1992); as well as from the Jafar characters/origins in Once Upon a Time and Once Upon a Time in Wonderland TV shows.
> 
> I don't own ANY of it; it is all the property of Disney, and/or Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz/ABC Studios; I'm just borrowing it :)
> 
> Reviews and constructive criticisms welcome; flames will be ignored.
> 
> Bakkah – ancient name for the site of Makkah (Mecca), a holy site for Muslims
> 
> Qalam – pen made from a cut, dried reed (seems to be used strictly for calligraphy, but I couldn’t find anything else on ancient Middle Eastern writing implements)
> 
> Saif - refers to any Middle Eastern, North African or South Asian sword, straight or curved (per Wikipedia; if I find out the exact kind of scimitar used I may go back and fix)

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Jafar strode swiftly through the open hallways of the palace, expression one of intense focus as Iago flew beside him, gleeful after having shared the news.

_That stupid, spoiled girl –!_

Prince Achmed had been one of the few – the very, _very_ few – remaining candidates for Princess Jasmine’s hand, the princess having refused every other suitor that had surfaced since she’d turned twelve.

Once more, the Royal Vizier mentally bemoaned the fact that the betrothal that he had organized with Pakistan when the Princess had only been a few years old had fallen through.

At this point, they were fast running out of options – and their allies were running out of patience.

_If only her father hadn’t spoiled her so much!_

Sultan Hamed had positively doted on his daughter since the day she’d been born, and his indulgences had only gotten worse after the Queen’s death.

But it had to _stop_.

Agrabahnian law mandated that princesses had to be married before they turned 16. There were only three more days until Jasmine’s birthday, and Jafar could feel the sand trickling through the hourglass in the back of his mind.

If she _didn’t_ marry, the other nations could take it as a sign of weakness on Agrabah’s part. The law did state that if a princess did not pick a husband, the Sultan had the authority to choose one for her, but Hamed had been characteristically noncommittal to the idea every time the Royal Vizier had broached the topic.

Jafar blamed Dahlia, the Princess’ nurse, for filling the girl’s head with stories of finding true love instead of impressing upon her the responsibilities of her position.

_I need to get that lamp….!_

With the genie of the lamp in his possession, Agrabah would never have to worry about invasion or war. But in order to get it, he needed to find this “diamond in the rough”; and in order to do _that_ ….

“Jafar!”

Jafar smoothly changed direction as he entered the massive throne room, empty for the moment. The Sultan was a figure in white waving enthusiastically from the doorway leading to the courtyard.

“Ah, Jafar! My most trusted advisor. I am in desperate need of your wisdom.”

_So you say, but you never listen to it!_

The Royal Vizier fought to keep the exasperation from his expression as he bowed, Iago shifting to keep his balance on Jafar’s shoulder. “My life is but to serve you, my lord,” he murmured respectfully.

The Sultan sighed. “It’s this suitor business. Jasmine refuses to choose a husband. I’m at my wit’s end!”

_A short trip, I am sure._

Jafar nearly bit his tongue in his effort to keep the words from escaping.

With his uncanny sense of timing, Iago squawked in laughter, “Wit’s end!”

The Sultan lit up, immediately rummaging around for a cracker.

Struggling to keep a pleasant expression on his face as Iago let out a trilling whistle he’d devised as a type of musical stand-in for cursing, Jafar did his best to return the conversation to the topic at hand as the bird delicately took the cracker from the Sultan’s outstretched hand.

“Now, then, perhaps I could divine a solution to this thorny problem?”

He could – literally – use one stone to kill two birds. If he could get the Sultan’s ring, he could use it to look for this “diamond in the rough” _and_ claim divine prophecy to push for one of the more advantageous suitor candidates.

“If anyone can help,” Hamed sighed, “It’s you. I don’t know where she gets it from. Her mother wasn’t nearly so picky.”

Jafar wisely forbore comment, clearing his throat instead.

“But…it _would_ require the use of the mystic blue diamond.”

This needed to be handled delicately. The mystic blue diamond was a very old, very cherished gem of the Sultanate; but it was precisely _because_ of its age that made it perfect for divination – the older an item was, the more likely it was to become attuned to those forces that made up the world.

Uneasiness flashed across the Sultan’s otherwise affable expression. “Oh. Uh, my ring? But it’s been in the family for years….”

“And will remain so for many more years,” Jafar promised patiently. “You have my word I will return the ring as soon as I have completed my task. But it _is_ necessary to find the princess a suitor.”

It was clear that Hamed wasn’t convinced, and the Royal Vizier bit back a wave of irritation at being reduced to using his arts.

Bringing up his staff, he mentally imposed his will on the magic stored therein, coaxing it from its dormant state as he brought the staff up to the Sultan’s eye level.

“Don’t worry,” he crooned soothingly, “Everything will be fine.”

He ignored Iago’s snort as the Sultan’s gaze went unfocussed. “Everything will be….fine,” he repeated slowly.

“The diamond,” Jafar coaxed.

Hamed wiggled the ring from his finger, expression vacant. “Here, Jafar. Whatever you need will be fine.”

“You are most gracious, my liege. Now, were you not telling me that the engineers had delivered a new marvel today?”

He lowered his staff, secreting the ring away as the Sultan blinked out of the persuasion, lighting up.

“You’re right! Oh goodness, in all the fuss with Jasmine I nearly forgot….”

His voice trailed off as he hurried away, and Jafar pinched the bridge of his nose once the Sultan was safely out of sight.

“Remind me again why you don’t want to be Sultan?”

Jafar couldn’t fully repress the full body twitch that went through him at Iago’s mutter, the parrot pinning him with a grumpy look.

It was an old argument, one that Iago liked to start whenever…well, really just _whenever_. He clearly enjoyed Jafar’s reactions, and some days the Royal Vizier wondered if, instead of gifting the macaw with human speech and intelligence, he’d actually invited a Djinn to possess the bird instead.

“For starters,” he replied (as he always did) as he moved towards the courtyard, “ – it would mean marrying _that_.”

“That” was currently unloading her woes to Rajah, curled upon the tiger as if he were a furry pillow.

“She’s not exactly hard on the eyes,” Iago pointed out, nonchalantly preening a wing.

“True –“ Jafar conceded dryly, “ – however I’m afraid our dear Princess has cast me in the role of villain; an impression that would undoubtedly only worsen were we forced to wed. I’ve no interest in spending my entire marriage wondering if every morning is the morning of the day my wife will have me killed.”

Iago fluttered his wings in the bird version of a shrug. “Could always marry her anyway, and then drop papa-in-law and the little woman off a cliff. _Ker-splat!_ ”

“The Sultan and his family rule by divine right,” Jafar said sharply. “It is not for men to meddle in the affairs of Allah.”

The rude noise Iago made in response to _that_ made the Royal Vizier’s hand twitch warningly, and the parrot subsided into inaudible muttering. 

Jafar sighed in aggravation at letting the bird get under his skin again, and turned to slip away before the Princess – or Rajah, Allah help him – caught sight of him. The tiger had come to share his mistress’ dislike for the Royal Vizier, and Jafar had no wish to tangle with the beast today.

Iago managed to be silent until they left the throne room.

“Not to mention it’s not like the Kingdom would gain anything by making her marry _you_ ,” he quipped, quickly taking wing before Jafar could swat at him.

_Foul little creature._

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By the time he’d finally managed to slip into his workshop Jafar’s temperament was somewhat restored. While exasperating, he could understand the Sultan’s obsession with the mechanical marvels his engineers came up with.

Jafar himself preferred more alchemical pursuits.

_Although even mechanical marvels have their uses_ , he had to admit.

The water wheel, for instance, that generated the lightning required to carry out his divinations.

The entire apparatus had been ruinously expensive – just finding the hidden spring in this forgotten corner of the palace had been an uncommonly good stroke of luck – but the particular wood required to create the twin serpent hourglass, as well as the glass globes that made up the hourglass itself had been investments on their own.

Jafar himself had brought the sand back from a pilgrimage to Bakkah, and as he carefully placed the ring into the holder created by the cobras’ fangs he couldn’t deny the heady rush that came with exercising his craft.

Iago pulled the stopper that kept the water wheel from turning while not in use. With a creak of wood the pressure of the spring began to move it, and Jafar paced like a predator eager to pounce as he waited for the lightning to generate.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just _zap_ the thing?” Iago asked rhetorically from the other side of the workshop, nonchalantly hunkering down in his cage.

The Royal Vizier didn’t bother responding. Iago well knew that Jafar could, in fact, _just_ _zap the thing_ , but the amount of energy it would require would leave the man drained and vulnerable for days; and Jafar was not of mind to give his enemies such an easy target.

_Easier target, perhaps; even a venom-milked cobra still has its fangs._

He could feel the building charge in the air as the apparatus sparked to life, and couldn’t stop the gleeful smile that stretched across his face as the sands began to swirl.

“Part, sands of time. Reveal to me the one who can enter the cave.”

The Cave of Wonders formed in the top half of the hourglass collapsed, the sand spinning down into the bottom half as the vision presented itself.

“Yes! Yes! There he is. My diamond in the rough.”

“ _That’s_ him?” Iago said doubtfully, as he perched cautiously on Jafar’s shoulder. “That’s the fool we’ve been waiting for?”

“It is,” Jafar breathed fervently, almost able to _feel_ the lamp in his –

_“That foolish, idiotic –“_

A nearby stool went flying to crash into splinters on a far wall, and Iago took flight with a squawk of surprise.

Jafar barely noticed; attention focused entirely on the second figure visible in the hourglass. She wore a plain shawl and robe, but there was no mistaking the Princess – who was clearly somewhere she was _not_ supposed to be.

“Find Hakim!” He snapped at the parrot, turning around in an angry swirl of robes. “Find Hakim and tell him to get his men into the city –“ he broke off with an oath, detouring to one of the many work tables scattered around the space.

“Here –“ Jafar held up a talisman of his own creation, one that contained hair and skin from the Princess as he muttered an incantation, “ – give this to him. Tell him it will warm the closer he gets to the Princess. And tell him I want the boy brought back as well. _Alive and unharmed.”_

“Not asking for much, are you?” the parrot asked dryly as he carefully grabbed the talisman’s chain with one foot. “You know Hakim’s gonna want to skewer the kid. It’d be his right too, as Captain of the Palace Guard.”

“See to it that he _doesn’t_. Use that brain you’re so proud of having.”

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Jafar regarded the two teens in front of him stoically. The Princess, clearly defiant and not bothering to hide it, and the boy – Aladdin, he’d stuttered out – clearly terrified and barely able to hide it, his pet monkey doing its best to hide in the boy’s vest.

It was obvious from their reactions that the boy – man, he had insisted, though if that was true it was only barely – had a better idea of what could befall a commoner in his position then the Princess did, and Jafar’s estimation of him went up slightly as he refused to beg or make excuses.

_Not that the Princess is giving him a chance to get a word in, even if he’d wanted to,_ he thought darkly humorously, noting that Hakim – standing ominously behind the two teens – was clearly having trouble keeping his _saif_ in its sheath, if the white-knuckled grip he had on the hilt was any indication.

By unspoken agreement, the two men had decided against informing the Sultan – Jafar for his reasons, and Hakim for _his_. As the person in charge of the safety of the Sultan’s family, if it got out that the Princess was able to escape and wander the city unescorted _for hours_ , well, Hakim would be lucky if _all_ the Sultan did was behead him.

Unfortunately, the one person they could not avoid informing was Hakim’s wife, and Dahlia was currently standing with her arms around Jasmine, who had not let up her harangue from the minute Hakim had bodily hauled her in front of the Royal Vizier.

She finally paused for a breath, and Jafar seized his chance.

“ _Enough_ , Princess.” The cold finality of his tone snapped the teenager’s mouth shut with an almost audible click, and in the back of his mind Jafar silently mourned that she was hardly ever that obedient.

He did find it interesting to note that the majority of Jasmine’s babble had been about protecting the boy, though.

_Let’s use that, then._

“Much as I would like to impose them, you will have no repercussions for your…sojourn, Princess Jasmine. In fact, seeing as no harm has come to you, I don’t believe it necessary to even inform the Sultan it happened. I would suggest, however,” he added smoothly, warningly, “– that should you find yourself contemplating another such excursion, you first consider the repercussions that will befall _those around you_.”

Jafar flicked his gaze from Dahlia to the boy, and then back to the Princess, who went white at the insinuation.

The girl wasn’t stupid, thankfully, and by the fear that now flashed across her face he was rather certain she wouldn’t be pulling such a stunt again.

_Or at least, not any time soon._

With a nod he dismissed Dahlia, who wasted no time in bundling her protesting charge away, scolding the girl in angry hisses.

Turning his attention back to the boy, however, he didn’t bother to restrain his scowl. “You, boy, on the other hand –“

“I’m sorry!” Aladdin blurted out, throwing himself nearly prostrate on the ground. “I didn’t know who she was! I just saw her in the market and she was in trouble so I wanted to help –“

“Of course,” Hakim interjected dryly, “– just like a hero come to save the beautiful damsel, I suppose?”

From the way the boy winced, it was clear the comment had hit its mark.

“The law is clear in this case, in that you _should_ be put to the death for daring to lay hands on the Princess. _However,_ it has been decided to commute to your sentence to labour instead. You will complete a task for me – do so successfully, and you will be released; fail, and it will mean your death regardless, therefore…” Jafar shrugged eloquently.

The boy looked up, and he could see the wheels of self-preservation spinning.

“What do I have to do?”

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“Jafar!”

_Allah preserve me._

He didn’t have _time_ to deal with this, but Jafar checked his impatience as he rose smoothly to his feet. The last thing he wanted was to spatter ink all over the nearly finished letters, so he carefully set down his _qalam_ as the Princess stormed into his office.

“You Highness,” he bowed gracefully, “– is there a problem?”

Iago perked up from where he was splashing in his water bath, and Jafar hoped the bird could keep his tongue still.

“Yes, there’s a problem! How dare you throw Aladdin into the dungeons!”

Jafar didn’t bother hiding his scowl.

_Of course._

While ordinarily the realization that the Princess was _finally_ showing interest in someone would have been a cause for celebration, _this_ particular turn of events seemed to serve up no end of troubles. 

“Would you rather I had him thrown from the end of a rope, Your Highness? Or under a sword?” he asked icily. “Either of which is exactly what the law dictates _should_ happen to him, for laying hands on one of the Royal family.”

“But he was trying to _protect_ me!”

“It was not his place to do so!” Jafar snapped back, unable to restrain himself. Did the girl truly have _no idea_ what could have happened as she walked naively around Agrabah?

“But – “

“But _nothing,_ Princess. You are a member of the ruling family of Agrabah – the _last_ member of the direct line. Had anything happened to you –“ he shook his head as he broke off.

“While your concern over his welfare is…. _admirable_ , you have a rather more pressing issue to deal with at the moment, do you not?”

He could see the barb hit home, but to her credit the Princess stood her ground. “I will _not_ consent to marrying some boot-licker who only wishes to increase _his_ standing – regardless of who chooses him!”

It would appear Hamed had finally broached the topic of choosing a husband _for_ her. Jasmine’s reaction was hardly surprising, but the stress of having the kingdom in such a prolonged perilous situation was enough that Jafar could hold his peace no longer.

“ _Foolish girl!”_ he practically spat. “I should have had Dahlia’s tongue removed after it became clear she’d begun filling your head with fairy tale nonsense! _Your life belongs to Agrabah_!”

He took a step forward, straightening to his full height as he continued.

“And if that means marrying someone you do not care for, _you will do so!_ And in case you weren’t aware, you’ve only got two more days, Your Highness; should you fail to choose a spouse – or accept one chosen for you – in such a situation, that law states that you must marry – “

“ _– the Royal Vizier!”_ the girl spat, surprising Jafar, though he recovered quickly.

“Exactly,” he confirmed, more calmly. “And since that isn’t a situation _either_ of us wish for, I strongly suggest you rethink your current stance. You should forget about the boy as well; it will do no good for the Sultan to hear about how you’re suddenly so concerned with a commoner.”

By all rights, Jafar should have combusted on the spot from the force of her answering glare, but the Royal Vizier didn’t miss the slight tremble in the girl’s lower lip. And while the Princess was generally _not_ the sort of weak female that relied upon tears to get her way, Jafar unbent enough to sigh.

“He will not be sentenced to death,” he told her as gently as he was able. “I have set a task for him to complete instead. It won’t be easy,” he warned, seeing the girl perk up, “ – but if he’s half as smart as he thinks he is, he will be able to complete it and continue on his way – which will _not_ include returning to the Palace.”

Jasmine’s face fell, but Jafar was unmoved.

“Very well,” was the princess’s stiff reply, “– but remember _your_ place, Jafar. _My father_ is the one with the power of life or death over his people, not you.”

Piece said, Jasmine swept tempestuously out of the room, head held high.

Iago wasted no time in taking up his usual spot on Jafar’s shoulder as soon as she had exited, practically vibrating with glee.

“Remember your place, Jafar,” he mimicked, in a credible imitation of the girl, causing the man to growl.

“Say that one more time, Iago….”

“Sorry, sorry,” the macaw bobbed his head apologetically, though his tone said otherwise. Further demonstrating his lack of self-preservation instincts, he chuckled and added, “You’ve really moved up her villain scale, haven’t you, O Mighty Evil one?”

Jafar just groaned.

_Teenagers._

He hoped Aladdin was easier to wrangle.

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“So where are we going?”

Riding pillion behind Jafar, they were the first words Aladdin had said to him since they’d set out. The blessed silence – broken only by the frantic chittering of the monkey the boy had refused to leave behind – had likely been due to the boy’s blatant terror over being on a galloping horse – or rather, of being on a horse for the first time ever.

Fortunately, his unease had lessened as the Royal Vizier had eventually coaxed the stallion to a walk, though privately Jafar suspected he’d have bruises around his midsection from the force of Aladdin’s grip.

Dipping a hand into two hidden pockets of his robes, Jafar withdrew the halves of the golden scarab.

“We are going to the Cave of Wonders,” he murmured, mostly to himself, as he brought the halves of the beetle together.

Just like before there was a flash of light and the beetle came to life, flying rings around Iago before taking off with Jafar in hot pursuit.

Aladdin and his monkey both yelped, the monkey gripping tightly to Jafar’s shoulder and turban while Aladdin gripped tighter to the Royal Vizier, the man only distantly aware of the press of the boy’s face into his back.

_This time it **will** be different!_

In no time at all the flying scarab had split, and the Cave of Wonders in all its glory was once more in front of him.

**_Who disturbs my slumber?_ **

Jafar dismounted, practically dragging Aladdin from the saddle when the stupefied teen merely sat there, gaping.

The Royal Vizier snarled an oath as Iago squabbled with the be-damned monkey about being in _his_ spot, causing the fur-ball to leap back to his master’s shoulder, shrieking.

_What did he call it again? Abu? Practically blaspheme, the wretched thing._

“It’s _alive_!” the boy practically squeaked, finally finding his voice. “You never said it was _alive_! Caves aren’t supposed to be alive!”

Jafar’s grip tightened on his vest. “It isn’t alive,” he corrected, “– it is merely magic.”

“’Merely magic?’ Well that’s _so_ much better,” Aladdin muttered, yelping when Jafar gave him a shake.

“Tell it your name,” the man ordered.

“ _My_ name?” the boy blurted out, trying to dig his heels into the sand as he was dragged him closer.

“Why don’t you tell it _your_ name instead?”

Jafar could feel the beginnings of a headache start to throb in his left temple, exacerbated by the unrelenting chattering of that _infernal_ monkey and Iago’s unhelpful chortles.

Throwing a glare that promised roast monkey if it didn’t behave itself, Jafar snapped, “If I could go in myself, do you really think I’d waste my time with you? Aladdin, listen to me. People like us must be realistic if –“

“Us?”

He _really_ didn’t want to get into the whole sob story, but the boy looked ready to bolt if given half a chance, and as much as he hated to admit it, the Royal Vizier _needed_ him.

Sighing, he eased his grip on the boy’s clothes, but wasn’t stupid enough to let go completely.

“I was once like you,” he said simply. “My mother was a healer in a palace in a country far from here. A prince took a fancy to her, than had her thrown out of the palace once his interest waned. I grew up a common thief. Only I refused to remain so. And now, _now_ I am Royal Vizier to the Sultan of _Agrabah_. You – you have stumbled upon an opportunity. There is a lamp in this cave – a simple oil lamp –“ Jafar wasn’t stupid enough to tell the boy the real reason he wanted the lamp. “Retrieve it for me, and in return I will make you into someone worthy of a princess.”

Jafar could practically see the gears beginning to turn in the boy’s mind. Given Hakim’s grudgingly admiring tale of how the boy had made his men look like a group of incompetent fools, the Vizier knew there was at least _some_ intelligence behind Aladdin’s sharp brown eyes.

He didn’t even fault the boy for hesitating – having been in Aladdin's position before, Jafar could be patient long enough for him to realize there was no way out of this 'request' that didn't end with him either getting the lamp for the Royal Vizier or getting executed.

The Vizier could practically see the moment it clicked for Aladdin that if he _did_ agree, it would mean that Jafar was beholden in holding up _his_ end of the bargain as well.

“Okay.” Aladdin punctuated his decision with a sharp nod, and Jafar released him.

“Before that –“smoothly unsheathing a dagger from his belt, the Royal Vizier sliced a dark lock of hair before Aladdin could protest.

Ignoring the boy’s surprised outrage he carefully wrapped a length of twine around the lock before placing it in a pouch and indicating the Cave with a jerk of his chin.

“Get on with it, then.”

Scowling, Aladdin turned away, gulping audibly as he strode closer to the Cave of Wonders with an admirable attempt at confidence; one only slightly undermined by his whining companion.

**_Who disturbs my slumber?_ **

“It is I. Aladdin.”

The boy’s voice was several octaves higher than normal and Jafar tensed, watching the Cave intently.

He nearly loosed a triumphant war cry when the Cave rumbled and spoke again.

**_Proceed._ **

**_Touch nothing but the lamp._ **

The Cave settled once more, and Aladdin looked back at Jafar, eyes so wide the Vizier could see the whites all around.

“Fetch me the lamp, Aladdin, and _only_ the lamp,” he warned, so close to victory he could nearly _taste_ it, “– touch _nothing_ else! Only then shall you have your reward.”

Nodding, the boy turned back and began to descend.

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_I was so close!_

Jafar was certain nothing of his internal rage showed in his expression; if it did, the current vizier blathering on at him about a _truly insignificant issue_ would have been incinerated on the spot.

He’d been _so close_ to getting that cursed lamp! But _something_ had clearly gone wrong; and once again the Cave of Wonders had collapsed at his feet, swallowing both the boy and Jafar’s hope at protecting Agrabah.

He’d raged for hours in the desert afterwards, leaving behind a stretch of sand blasted into enough coarse glass it could have almost covered the entire floor of the throne room.

Iago had been wise enough to remain largely quiet since returning to the palace, but as he abruptly winged in to land on Jafar’s shoulder, he was so excited he barely remembered to play the dumb animal.

“Jafar! Jafar, there’s a – aawwwk! Parade! Awwk! Parade!”

“A parade?” the other vizier broke off, expression confused, and Jafar could feel a muscle in his cheek tic as he fought to keep his teeth from grinding.

_What now?_

Faintly now he could hear the sound of drums and horns, and Iago was practically dancing on his shoulder with the effort to remain quiet.

“If you will excuse me,” he bowed gracefully to the other man, not bothering to wait for acknowledgement before striding off. Iago barely managed to restrain himself long enough for them to get out of earshot.

“There’s something weird going on, Jafar! This Prince showed up out of nowhere! He’s got this _huge_ group with soldiers and dancers and animals and _more,_ but there aren’t any new ships down at the harbour, and _none_ of the overland traders had any idea this group was on its way here! They just showed up out of thin air!”

“Nonsense,” Jafar snapped, striding through the halls as the sounds of music grew louder. “He had to come from _somewhere._ ”

By the time he reached the throne room, it was to a rather _spectacular_ spectacle. Whoever had shown up – and going by Hakim’s rather displeased expression as he barked out orders to begin herding some of the entourage into the gardens, _he_ wasn’t impressed – had clearly set the palace on its ear, as Jafar nearly had to fight his way through a crowd of Court officials, hangers-on, and servants to reach the throne.

_Just **what** is going on here?_

They certainly weren’t expecting any visiting royalty or dignitaries; and someone with an entourage _this_ size surely wouldn’t have shown up without first sending word!

But as he approached the dais, which held an enthusiastically clapping Sultan and a richly garbed young man just rising to his feet, it seemed the situation was exactly that.

“Splendid! Absolutely marvelous!” The Sultan was crowing as Jafar approached.

“Your Majesty,” began the young man, and the Royal Vizier sighed as he confirmed _what_ – if not who – the latest jumped-up peacock was.

“– I have journeyed from afar to seek your daughter’s hand.”

“Prince Ali al-Ababwa. Of course. I’m delighted to meet you,” Hamed exclaimed, waving a be-ringed hand. “This is my Royal Vizier, Jafar. He’s delighted, too.”

“Ecstatic,” Jafar deadpanned, as the young royal – and _where_ was he from, exactly? – turned to face him. He didn’t recognize the man, which was not unusual, and yet…

“I’m afraid, Prince…ah?”

“Ali al-Ababwa,” the young man – and he certainly was young, perhaps a year or two older than the Princess – offered.

“I’m afraid, Your Highness, that you cannot just parade in here uninvited and expect to…” Jafar could not help but trail off as his gaze landed on what had captured his Sultan’s attention.

_A flying carpet._

The Royal Vizier felt a tingle of premonition dance up and down his spine.

Well, it was no time at all before the Sultan was whizzing around the throne room on the thing (to the consternation of his guards), and Jafar used the opportunity to probe the young royal.

“Just where did you say you were from?”

The cocky grin Prince Ali wore faltered for just the briefest of moments. “Oh, much farther than you’ve traveled, I’m sure.”

“Try me.”

The slight threatening tinge to the older man’s voice caused the boy’s eyes to widen, but they were interrupted by the Sultan coming in for a landing, and Jafar was rather distracted by using his craft to ensure the man didn’t end up with his brains splattered all over the marble dais.

“Oh, oh my! Jasmine will like this one.”

Cockiness restored, Prince Ali boasted, “And I’m pretty sure I’ll like Princess Jasmine.”

_Insolent brat._

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, from other suitors, and yet – Jafar moved on impulse. “Your Majesty, no. I must intercede on Jasmine’s behalf. This boy is no different from the others. What makes him think he is worthy of the Princess?”

_Not to mention that he reeks of a type of magic I’ve never come across before._

“Your Majesty, I am Prince Ali al-Ababwa. Just let her meet me. I will win your daughter.”

_Arrogant puppy._

“How _dare_ you!”

All three men jerked around in surprise to see the furious visage of Princess Jasmine, who’d apparently managed to enter into the throne room unnoticed.

“All of you!” she shouted, stabbing each of them with accusing eyes. “Standing around deciding my future? I am _not_ a prize to be won!”

And she was gone in a royal huff, Jafar letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. As the Sultan fretted and reassure this… _Prince Ali_ , the Royal Vizier exchanged a speaking glance with Iago.

He needed to get to his workshop.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jafar had not gotten as far as he had in life by leaving things to chance. The moment he managed to escape to his workshop – after being reduced to dealing with feeding and housing Prince Ali’s entourage, a task which had driven some of the more junior viziers into a useless panic – he set immediately to work.

The Princess had rapidly begun to evidence a rather disturbing fondness for her newest suitor; and while there was still nothing about Prince Ali that indicated he wasn’t who and what he said he was, the weavings of strange magic about him – and that _carpet_ – had Jafar reaching for a half-completed talisman on one of his work benches.

“You don’t really think –“

Iago broke off as he fluttered to land on the workbench, using one talon to poke at the talisman’s chain.

“I don’t _think_ ,” Jafar corrected him as he opened a small box to reveal a tuft of black hair carefully wrapped with a red thread, “– but I _suspect_ that our Prince Ali has rather more…. _humble_ …origins then he will admit to.”

“But _how_?” Iago persisted. “The Cave collapsed with him inside! And his monkey! We _watched_ it happen!”

“We did,” the man agreed as he worked. “But recall how he outwitted Hakim and his guards. And the magic that must surely be present in the Cave – “ he broke off, shaking his head. “In addition, Aladdin _did_ have the lamp with him when he fell.

“A lamp,” he continued, as he placed the lock of hair inside the talisman and closed it up, “which allegedly contains a genie that can grant wishes.”

It didn’t take Iago long to make the connection, but when he did he let out a squawk that very nearly caused Jafar to drop the incantation he was in the middle of.

The bird quickly darted back to his perch at the man’s black look, where he remained carefully quiet until the Royal Vizier had finished.

Straightening with a groan as his back reminded him that his days of spending hours crouched over a workbench were behind him, Jafar gestured impatiently for Iago.

“Here,” he said, slipping the talisman over the bird’s head. “Go find this _Prince Ali_. If he is – as I suspect – our former street rat, it will light up. Be careful you aren’t spotted!”

Iago made a rude noise, “Teach a thief to steal, why don’t you?”

Jafar gave him a gentle toss and the bird took flight, still grumbling to himself.

_Now, we wait._

If Ali truly _was_ Aladdin, well, the Royal Vizier couldn’t exactly fault him for using the genie to catapult himself out of poverty. In fact, while he apparently had done so because of a pretty face – he _was_ still young, after all - it was a rather cunning move.

_Well, perhaps he isn’t the ‘diamond in the rough’ for nothing._

~*~

It took Iago so long to return that Jafar had given up trying to get any work done and been reduced to pacing in his study.

“ _Jafar!”_

Head snapping around at the exhausted hiss, he hurried to the balcony just in time to see Iago practically heave himself over the railing.

“Iago, what –!”

And then he saw it, clutched in the parrot’s talons.

A lamp.

_It couldn’t be._

The Royal Vizier scooped it up reverently, quickly striding back into his study. He didn’t even notice Iago barely making it into the room to flop ungracefully atop a cushion, shimmying the talisman off as he did so; the Royal Vizier's attention was all focussed on the rather beat-up looking lamp in his hands.

Hardly daring to breath, he brushed his fingertips along the side, jerking them back as blue smoke began to pour from the spout.

“You know, Al, I'm getting reaaaaa – Idon'tthinkyou'rehim.”

_At last!_

Jafar gazed up at the blue being, exultation singing through his veins, barely managing to get out, “ _I_ am your master now, genie.”

The genie – an actual, real live _genie_ – made a face as it – he? – crossed his arms.

“I was afraid of that,” he muttered darkly, while Jafar tried to come to grips with seeing a genie _pout._

Before he could gather his racing wits, the being heaved a sigh that nearly knocked the Royal Vizier off his feet.

“Well Master, your wish is my command. What’ll it be?”

_What’ll it be?_

The realization that everything he’d worked so hard for was finally in his hands was enough that it took a few moments for Jafar’s native intelligence to reassert itself.

“How many wishes do I receive?” he asked suspiciously.

Three wishes was what all the scant information he’d been able to dig up had said, but Jafar was not going to take anything on assumption.

The genie beamed, holding out one blue finger that suddenly split into three. “Three wishes to be exact. And ix-nay on the wishing for more wishes. That’s it. Three. Uno, dos, tres. No substitutions, exchanges or refunds.”

Jafar still had his suspicions. “ _Any_ three wishes I want?”

The genie cringed, gracing him with an awkward smile. “Ah, almost. There are a few provisos, a couple of quid pro quos…”

_Of course there are._

The Royal Vizier felt himself relax a little now that he’d found the catch.

“And they are?”

“Ah, rule number one: I can’t kill anybody. So don’t ask.”

Iago snorted from where he was still sprawled inelegantly on a cushion. “If Jafar has to resort to _you_ to kill his enemies, we’ve got bigger problems.”

The genie rolled his eyes but continued, “Rule number two! I can’t make anybody fall in love with anybody else. Mwah!”

Jafar wasn’t even conscious of summoning his staff, but it was in his hand and the magic was humming warningly through him as the genie released the Royal Vizier’s face and beat a hasty retreat.

“Sorry, sorry! Boy, you don’t have much of a sense of humour, do you?”

Jafar ignored the question. “What is the last rule?”

A wicked grin was all the warning they got before the genie transformed into a dripping green _thing_ , looming menacingly over Iago, who honked and tumbled off his cushion in surprise.

“Rule number three! I can’t bring people back from the dead; it’s not a pretty picture. I don’t like doing it!! Other than that, you got it.”

He finished in a flourished bow, back to his typical blue appearance, and Jafar nodded thoughtfully.

“Must I make my wishes now?”

One eyebrow slowly rose as the genie lifted his head to study him warily. “You mean you don’t want to? Huh, that’s a first. Normally it’s all ‘Poof! What do you need? Poof! What do you need? Poof! What do you need?”

“I do not _need_ anything at this particular moment,” Jafar snapped, unreasonably nettled, “– except for you to get back in your lamp!”

“And aren’t you just a tall, sinister bundle of joy,” the genie muttered, before flowing back into the lamp so violently Jafar nearly dropped it.

Iago peered upwards in concern as his master began to laugh. He shifted uneasily on his pillow as the Royal Vizier collapsed onto a chair, practically cackling, the lamp dangling from one long finger.

“Oh, boy,” the bird muttered in despair, “He's cracked. He's gone nuts.”

Heaving himself up with a sigh, Iago hopped his way over to land gingerly on the man’s thigh, eyeing him warily.

He couldn’t help his reflexive dodge when Jafar’s other hand suddenly came up, but all he did was wave his staff back to its resting place. Iago relaxed, and was quickly reduced to a melting mass of feathers as the man’s nimble fingers found that _particular_ spot at the nape of his neck.

“ _Excellent_ work, Iago.”

The scarlet macaw preened at the warm praise, unable to gather enough wits to do more then let out a contented trill.

“So, Ali is Aladdin. And yet, no one knows that beyond…who?”

Iago regained enough presence of mind to cock an inquiring eye up at his master, even as he made himself more comfortable on the man’s thigh as Jafar continued to think aloud.

“The princess surely doesn’t – she can’t – and clearly the Sultan doesn’t either. The other viziers would have no reason to suspect him…”

In fact, most of the other viziers seemed to be rather impressed with the young man – or at least with his ability to capture the Princess’ interest.

Jafar sighed, mind running through dozens of possibilities from every conceivable angle.

Now that he had the lamp, his biggest concerns regarding Agrabah’s safety and autonomy had been laid to rest. Not to say that their army was deficient in any manner, but the ability to simply _wish_ enemies away was an advantage that was not to be taken lightly.

And while he hoped he never had to resort to it, should he ever use up his three wishes, he could merely pass the lamp to one of his underlings – with heavily edited instructions, of course.

_I wonder if Iago would be considered a viable ‘master’ for the lamp?_ Jafar thought humorously, adjusting his fingers to the way Iago cocked his head to get “…right there that’s the spooooooott…..”

However, that still left the rather prickly issue of the Princess’ marriage.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he straightened abruptly, causing Iago to flap his wings to keep his balance. A quick rub of the lamp and the genie reappeared, looking equal parts exasperated and cautious.

“Yeeessss….?”

“What will happen to Ali’s – Aladdin’s – trappings as Prince Ali, now that he is no longer your master?”

An idea had begun to percolate in the back of Jafar’s mind, but it would be for nothing if the genie’s magic suddenly vanished and revealed Aladdin as an imposter.

The genie blinked, seeming to be genuinely surprised. Jafar shot him a warning look when it seemed like the being was going to do one of its interminable impressions, causing the genie to heave a put-upon sigh.

“It will wear off, slowly. Give it a couple days and poof!“ the genie waggled his fingers. “Them suckers’ll all disappear.”

Jafar sat back, considering.

Like Aladdin, he himself came from humble origins; so, unlike every other official in the palace, the boy’s background was of little matter to him.

The Princess was clearly infatuated with him, the Sultan regarded him with a relief that was almost overpowering…aside from the fact that he was a fake, the boy was practically perfect!

_If I disregard the fact that he’s likely illiterate, ignorant, and completely unlearned, of course,_ he sighed heavily.

_But all of that can be fixed._

“Master?”

Jafar blinked, coming out of his reverie. He’d actually forgotten about the genie! He leaned forward, pinning the being with a hawk-like gaze as Iago sighed and perched on the arm of the chair.

“Tell me everything you know about the boy.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A long while later Jafar sat back in his chair, contemplative. The genie was gone, banished back to his lamp, said lamp stored safely away, and Iago was waddling his way to his favourite cushion after having stuffed himself with a late meal.

The remains of Jafar’s own meal lay on the desk in front of him, abandoned as he became preoccupied.

His agile mind turned over the idea that he’d worked out; examining it from every possible angle for weakness and holes and finding nothing that couldn’t be neatly sewn up with an explanation – or artful demonstration – or two.

_This…may actually work._

The Royal Vizier would still need to test the boy, of course, but….if he managed to pull this together, Agrabah’s safety – at least, from _outside_ forces – would be rather more assured then it was currently. The Royal Vizier was intelligent enough to realize even that state could change at any given moment, but –

_But it all hinges on the boy._

Mind made up, Jafar arose from his chair, reaching for a small bell located on his desk.

The sweet chime had barely faded away when a knock sounded at the door to the study.

“Enter,” Jafar called.

“Master?”

The Royal Vizier nodded, pleased by who had responded; this particular servant boy was bright and quick on his feet, and disinclined to ask questions.

“Riaz, find Prince…Ali, and tell him I’d like to ask for a few moments of his time.”

Riaz – he was about nine, from what Jafar could vaguely recall, the son of one of the women responsible for looking after the Royal Vizier’s quarters – nodded sharply, though the man didn’t miss the quick glance the boy shot in Iago’s direction.

Left alone, the children in the palace would have spoiled the bird _rotten_ , and being able to claim one of his feathers was considered the pinnacle of childish wealth.

As it was, with Iago currently spread out – rather un-birdlike – like a flattened version of himself, the vibrant colours of his feathers were on full display, and looked rather striking against the dark brown pillows he’d claimed.

Jafar sighed.

_I must be getting soft in my old age._

“A moment, Riaz.”

Riaz looked up, patiently awaiting further instructions, only to brighten as he recognized the treat the Royal Vizier held out to him, distracted from noticing the man’s other hand make a quick gesture.

Iago squawked in complaint as he was jarred out of a sound sleep, blinking sleepily as he lifted his head.

“Thank you Royal Vizier,” the boy said politely, before practically snatching the treat and dashing over to Iago, who woke up enough to accept the treat – as well as a head scratch – before the boy left to carry out his errand.

“You hairless monkeys aren’t that bad to have around, I suppose,” Iago commented sleepily after the boy had gone, “but I’m not overly fond of the ones with fur.”

And with that cryptic comment, he tucked his head and went back to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was late before Riaz returned with Prince Ali, and the reason for the lateness was quickly apparent.

“Jafar! What is the meaning of this?”

The Royal Vizier was thankful he had already set down his _qalam_ , as at the surprise of hearing the Sultan’s inquisitive voice he very likely would have dropped it and spoiled the missive he’d just completed.

_Why is he – Allah preserve me._

Not just the Sultan but the Princess as well, all followed by Hakim, who was wearing a decidedly neutral expression.

“Thank you Riaz. You may go. Your Majesty, Your Highness – Highnesses,” Jafar quickly corrected himself as he rose smoothly from behind his desk.

“The Sultan asked you what the meaning of this was, Jafar.”

The Royal Vizier could feel a tic developing in his left eye as he took in the Princess’ stony gaze.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning, Highness. If you are referring to my request to speak with Prince Ali – “

“I _am_ ,” Jasmine fired back, impervious to her father’s attempts to convince her to “Please Jasmine, if you would only –“, her distrust of the Royal Vizier practically rolling off her in physical waves.

“You’ve never spoken to any of my other suitors before, so why –“

“Actually, your Highness, I not only _have_ spoken with every single one of your suitors thus far, but I have also turned away no few of them whom I considered to be wholly unacceptable,” Jafar stated flatly.

“You can ask your father – or even Hakim – if this is true. It is also why I asked to speak to Prince Ali _alone._ ”

Off-guard, Jasmine hesitated, flicking a questioning glance at her father, who heaved a relieved sigh and nodded as he made himself comfortable next to Iago.

Not that Jafar particularly _wanted_ to have this discussion in front of an audience, but it would seem he didn’t have a choice.

Repressing a sigh, he gestured towards a plate of fruit and wine he had had brought. “Please, your Highnesses.”

Hakim remained standing, but Jasmine and Aladdin – Ali – took seats once the Sultan nodded permission. Iago snorted awake as Hamed rearranged some of the pillows as he began to speak.

“Now, one thing I pride myself on is that I’m an excellent judge of character; however, any of your suitors that _I_ speak with are always – understandably – on their best behaviours. And so I have tasked Jafar –“ not to mention Hakim and Dahlia, though at least the Sultan was smart enough to avoid mentioning them, “– with discretely, ah, _sounding out_ those who come calling.

“Not that this is anything against you personally, Prince Ali,” the Sultan hastened to add, “But I’m not going to hand my daughter over to just anyone, you know!”

Jasmine’s expression softened, and she reached over to grasp her father’s hand as Aladdin hastened to reassure the Sultan that he took no offense. Jafar tried not to roll his eyes at the blatantly emotional moment – ignoring Hakim’s knowing smirk – and cleared his throat impatiently.

“Prince Ali. How have you been finding life here at the palace? Not that much different from your own home, I would imagine?”

The blank expression that initially flashed across the boy’s face – quickly followed by panic – made Jafar internally sigh.

_The other viziers will eat him alive if he doesn’t learn to keep his expression under control._

“Uh, yes! Yes, it’s just like home, exactly. Exactly, um, like it, surprisingly. But nice! It’s really nice that here feels like home, while I’m away from my home for so long – not that I’m complaining –“ he hastened to add, and Jafar could feel a headache beginning to develop.

Holding up a hand to stop the waterfall of verbal awkwardness, he used it to summon his staff once more, gratified by the way the boy’s eyes widened in shock as he watched the staff sail smoothly into the older man’s grasp, the cobra’s eyes glowing ominously red.

Hakim shifted, uncomfortable as always whenever Jafar exercised his art, while the Sultan paid more attention to the tray of fruits and the Princess wrinkled her nose in disdain.

“Now then,” he mused lightly, “I have a proposition for you, Aladdin –“

“It’s _Ali_ , Royal Vizier.”

Jafar didn’t bother stopping the smirk that crept across his face. He had to give the boy credit – he _almost_ sounded believable. But _almost_ wasn’t enough, and three quick bursts of magic from his staff undid the genie’s magic, leaving the boy in the clothes he’d worn the first time the Royal Vizier had laid eyes on him.

He also had to give the boy credit for quick reflexes; Aladdin was up and heading towards the balcony nearly before anyone could blink, knocking Iago and his pillows to the floor in his haste to escape, while the Sultan and the Princess let out dismayed shouts and Hakim cursed in recognition.

“Ah-ah- _ah_.”

A quick jab with the head of his staff caught the boy mid-stride, struggling futilely mid-air as Jafar’s magic reeled him.

Now fully awake, Iago let out an indignant squawk as he managed to right himself. “Squeeze him, Jafar! Squeeze him like a – Awk!”

The Royal Vizier didn’t bother taking Iago to task for his slip-up; he was too busy reveling – he was only human, after all – in the look of complete and absolute shock on the boy’s now upside-down face.

“Ali – what –“

“Jasmine, I tried to tell you – “

“My boy what is the meaning –“

“You dirty little _street rat_ – “

“ _Enough.”_

Shocked, everyone fell silent, and Jafar savoured a brief moment of peace before continuing.

“As I was saying; I have a proposition for you – for all of us, rather. But let me preface it with this, Aladdin: you will listen to – _and seriously consider_ , I might add – it like the rational boy I suspect you are, or the Sultan will have you denounced as an imposter – for starters – and leave you to Hakim’s _personal attention_. After which – should there be anything of you left – you will be placed on display for the rest of the populace to learn what happens to those who pretend to be above themselves.”

Aladdin had gone steadily whiter during Jafar’s speech – an incredible feat, given that all the blood was currently rushing to his head – and his eyes bid fair to pop out of his skull as the Royal Vizier laid out his ultimatum.

“I might also add,” he added off-handedly, “– that the genie’s lamp is now in _my_ possession – “

“You’re lying!”

Jafar didn’t bat an eyelid. “I am not. And you will be free to confirm the absence of said lamp yourself once I have your agreement to my proposal.”

“What lamp?” Jasmine and the Sultan asked in unison, and Jafar turned his attention from the boy struggling pointlessly in his incorporeal bonds.

“Surely not the one – from that Cave of Wonders that you’ve always spoken of?” Hamed asked in wonder, and Jafar gave a graceful bow.

“As sharp as ever, Your Majesty. Yes, not only had I located the Cave, but I sent the boy in to retrieve the lamp for me. However, something went wrong –“ here he cast a sharp glance at Aladdin, who looked briefly guilty, “ – and the Cave collapsed, taking – I supposed at the time – the boy down with it.

“And then Prince Ali arrived, from out of thin air, and with a magic flying carpet.”

Iago chuckled as he took wing, flying lazy circles around Aladdin.

“I’d take Jafar up on his offer if I were you, kid,” the bird advised, perching insolently on one upside-down foot and beginning to clean his feathers, ignoring the renewed gasps of shock from Jasmine and the Sultan at his perfect speech.

“After all, it’s certain death if you don’t. Eventually, anyways. Hakim looks like he might take the opportunity to, ah, work out a little _frustration_ first, if you get my meaning.”

Aladdin glanced at the Royal Guard and audibly gulped.

Jafar didn’t bother reprimanding the bird for speaking. He may as well attempt to stop the sun from rising at this point.

“You _lied_ to me! This entire time! And I _believed_ you!” Furious, Jasmine began to pace, and even the normally affable Hamed was scowling rather fiercely at the boy, and this was _exactly why_ Jafar hadn’t wanted an audience!

The Royal Vizier didn’t bother repressing his sigh this time.

_Allah save me from royal theatrics._

“I should also add that as you had given me your word that you would retrieve the lamp for me, I am the _rightful_ master of it – and the genie encased therein.”

Guilt and defiance warred on Aladdin’s face as Jafar eased him upright, and he had to admire the boy’s pluck, he really did.

Iago winged lazily to his preferred perch on Jafar’s shoulder as he took in the drama. Under the pretense of preening the underside of a wing he muttered, “You sure you wanna go through with this?”

Taking in the patently unhappy looks on both teens’ faces – and were those actual _tears_ swimming in Jasmine’s eyes? – Jafar mentally revisited all the ways his proposition could go ( _would_ go, likely) wrong.

And then considered the likely consequences if they _didn’t_ go through with his plan.

_Do we really have a choice, at this point?_

“What is your idea, Vizier?”

At least there was one _other_ rational person in the room, Jafar thought with relief, unable to keep his lips from twitching at the pointedness of Hakim’s tone.

He released Aladdin by waving his staff to its stand, and waited for both teens to sit down again. Jasmine sat beside her father, while Aladdin cast a brief, longing glance towards the balcony before getting cowed by Hakim’s throat clearing and dropping onto the nearest cushion.

“Go ahead, Jafar, let’s hear this plan of yours.”

Inclining his head graciously at his Sultan, Jafar started his opening gambit. “Your Majesty, the law dictates that if the princess has not chosen – or has not _had_ chosen – a husband by sunrise of tomorrow – or later today, as it stands – then she and I must wed, correct?”

He ignored the princess’ glare and the revolted expression on Aladdin’s face, fighting to keep his impatience from showing as he looked to the Sultan, who sighed despondently.

“You know it does, Jafar. And there is no way around it –“ he warned, straightening regally and fixing the Royal Vizier with a laser gaze.

“I wouldn’t dream of daring to go against the law,” Jafar rebutted smoothly, turning to the princess and resisting the urge to flick Iago off his shoulder when the macaw choked on a laugh.

“Princess Jasmine, are you absolutely certain that of _all_ –“ there was nothing subtle about the emphasis Jafar used, “ – _all_ of your potential suitors, none of them have been acceptable to you?”

She was going to say yes, Jafar could just tell; she was still upset over Aladdin’s deception and not thinking clearly.

“Be truthful, Princess,” he warned, cutting her off and discretely flicking his gaze in Aladdin’s direction.

Her eyes widened slowly in dawning understanding, but upset and confusion lingered. “I – I – there is. There is a suitor that is acceptable to me, but…”

Having not caught Jafar’s look, the Sultan was overjoyed and Aladdin was crushed; while Hakim couldn’t completely stifle his groan as he realized what the Royal Vizier was leading up to.

“Splendid!” the Sultan crowed, clapping his hands. “Absolutely splendid! Who is it my dear?”

Jasmine hesitated, glancing miserably at Aladdin, who returned it with an expression rather more suitable to a begging pup.

Hamed’s joy waned. “Ah. I see. Jasmine –“

Before the theatrics could start up again, Jafar took the risk of interrupting the Sultan. “Your Majesty, I believe I have a solution for that….particular issue.”

Three heads swung to face him, distrust on one, and cautious hope on the other two.

Jafar spread his hands. “I will say that the boy is mine," he said simply, ignoring the way the others' eyes widened and keeping his own on his Sultan.

“The long-lost son of the Royal Vizier?” the Sultan mused thoughtfully, fingers stroking his beard. “He...would be considered an eligible suitor. There _i_ _s_ precedent for it, after all. But he _would_ have to be given your name, Jafar,” he warned, dropping his fingers, “– and the other countries are going to be out for blood, once the marriage announcement is made. What will stop them from using it as an excuse to declare war?”

Jasmine was sitting quietly, the intensity of her gaze reminding Jafar very much of her pet tiger in the moment, and he fought the thrill of victory dancing across his spine.

“Agrabah is well-known for its armies _and_ naval defenses as it is,” he pointed out. “Not to mention the treaties and trades we have with the other nations aren’t things they will be so inclined to risk, even over such a matter.”

He took a deep breath. Hamed and Hakim were aware of most of his background, but not all of it.

“In addition, by claiming Aladdin as my son, we can claim blood relation to Sultan Mirza, of Shirobad – who is my half-brother. It is not,” he added dryly, at the exclamations of surprise his announcement elicited, “– a very well-known relationship; but Shirobad will keep the peace in order to _keep_ it that way. With their might behind us, it is doubtful any of the other nations will press the issue very hard.”

A stunned silence descended upon the group, but Jafar kept his gaze on his Sultan – if he decided against the idea, that would be the end of it.

“The boy’s got the arrogance to pull it off, for certain,” Hamed mused aloud, pinning Aladdin with an eagle eye.

“I suppose you’re planning on saying he was a minor member of Prince Ali’s entourage? And that he chose to remain behind – as Prince Ali will have to leave, of course – due to discovering your relationship with him?”

“Exactly, Your Majesty.”

Thoughtful, expectant silence reined.

“Perhaps we could say he was one of the animal attendants? It will be a good explanation for why he’s untrained and uneducated, my Sultan.”

Jafar wasn’t surprised Hakim had spoken up, but he hadn’t truthfully expected the Captain of the Guard to be on _his_ side.

The hope blazing on Jasmine’s face – and beginning to glimmer on Aladdin’s – was almost painful to look at.

Hamed _hmmed_ thoughtfully, gazing moving between his daughter and the boy. When his expression softened Jafar knew he’d succeeded.

“I feared losing you, Jasmine,” he said softly, pulling his daughter’s gaze to him. “Like I lost your mother. All I saw was my little girl, not the woman you have become. You are the future of Agrabah. And if you aren’t happy, Agrabah will not be happy.

“And you –“ he turned his not-inconsequential gaze onto Aladdin, who winced but met his eyes fearlessly. “You’ve got a long way to prove your worth as far as I’m concerned. So I will propose this – if my daughter is certain about choosing you –“

“Yes!” said princess blurted out, clutching at her father’s hands. “I am! I choose….I choose you, Aladdin.”

Jafar had to bite back the urge to grimace. There were entirely too many _emotions_ all over the place, and they couldn’t afford to be side-tracked.

Hamed chuckled, but there was frighteningly little humour in it. “Then you will be married, this very day. _But_ –“ both teens seemed too stunned to hear him, so he waited until he had their full attention again.

“The marriage will _not_ be consummated. Aladdin, I will give you a year – _one year_ – in which you will be instructed by Jafar, Hakim, and anyone else they deem necessary in order to make you worthy of becoming the prince consort of the future Sultan.

“During that year you will fulfill your duties as a Prince of the Sultanate of Agrabah, and at the end of it you will be assessed. If you are found worthy, I will allow you and Jasmine to live as husband and wife; if not….” He trailed off suggestively, but from his fearful expression there was no doubt Aladdin understood the insinuation.

Prostrating himself on the floor Aladdin began stammering out how thankful he was and vowing to do his absolute best, only to be rapidly cut off by Jasmine flying at him and peppering his face with kisses.

Hamed harrumphed but made no effort to stop the rather shocking display, leaning back in his seat with a sharp expression on his face as he looked at the other two men.

“This won’t be easy,” he warned. “To fool the entire court –“

“It has been done before,” Iago suddenly, slyly pointed out, causing the Sultan to chuckle and Hakim to smile grimly.

Inclining his head in acknowledgement, Hamed turned to his Royal Vizier, “So, what are you going to call him?”

Jafar blinked, not sure why it was even a question.

“Aladdin ibn Jafar al-Shirobadi,” he said simply, and the pleased nod he received in response made the last of the tension singing through his muscles disappear.

“Kinda rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?” Iago mused.

“Well!” The Sultan clapped his hands, startling the two love-birds out of their ridiculous cooing. “I believe we have a wedding to arrange! And a Prince to send packing, and a new member of the court to introduce…Hakim, ready the guards. Come Jafar, we have much to accomplish in the next few hours!”

Jafar’s heady feeling of victory vanished like water in the desert.

“Of course, my Sultan,” he managed through not quite gritted teeth, deliberately ignoring Hakim’s silently shaking shoulders. How could he have forgotten about in whose lap responsibilities for all the joyous festivities would land?

Not bothering to mask his sigh once his Sultan’s back was safely turned (Hakim following like a silent shadow), Jafar stopped when Aladdin called out, “Royal Vizier!”

Turning, Jafar raised an eyebrow as Jasmine and Aladdin stood before him, the latter shifting his weight nervously.

“Thank you,” the boy blurted out, flicking his gaze up at the Vizier and then away, clearly uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Iago cut in, chortling at the look of absolute cluelessness his answer evoked.

“After all, you haven’t begun your training yet,” the macaw continued, preening, “And I promise you kid, _thanking_ him will be the last thing you’ll want to do once we have.”

“It will not be easy,” Jafar warned, hoping to impress the seriousness of the situation on the teen. “And if you fail, well, I’m sure you can appreciate the consequences; to yourself, if no one else.”

Some of Prince Ali’s arrogance came back and Aladdin stood straight and tall, meeting the man’s sharp gaze head on.

“I won’t fail her,” he said confidently, and wasn’t that an interesting choice of words?

He continued, a mischievous look coming over his face. “After all, anything less would be unacceptable for the son of the Royal Vizier; isn’t that right, _Abu_?”

The Princess – clearly possessed of a better sense of self-preservation – whisked him away before said Royal Vizier could do more than open his mouth to respond.

Breathing slowly to repress his instinctive urge to incinerate the insolent brat, Jafar couldn’t help the reluctant smile that played at the edges of his mouth.

_The nerve to call me father…._

“This…will be an interesting year,” he murmured as he turned to follow his Sultan, gesturing for his staff and ignoring Iago's derisive snort.

It wasn’t until they’d nearly caught up with the Sultan and Hakim that Iago spoke, sounding positively plaintive. 

“Does this mean we gotta keep the monkey too?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Author's Note:**

> Hot dang I'm gonna get these unfinished fics done!
> 
> Couple other notes:
> 
> Sultan vs Sultana(h) – Sultana(h) can refer to a Sultan’s wives or a female monarch, but I chose to refer to Jasmine as the future Sultan (there is real world historical precedent for this) as she is the direct heir 
> 
> Naming – Aladdin ibn Jafar al-Shirobadi = Aladdin son of Jafar from Shirobad
> 
> I did my best to be as accurate as possible with the naming convention - as well as with how I referenced Allah - so if I am incorrect in any way please know that no offense is/was intended! 
> 
> Corrections welcome :)


End file.
